Gateways Gogglebox by Johnny Barclay
“I’m here, Dawn, on the sofa with my knitting. Quick or you’ll miss the start.”
“Doing the best I can, Madge, but frames aren’t made for speed. Stirling Moss I am not.”
“Any sign of Angie?”
“No, Madge. Curtains …”
“Curtains?”
“Saw them drawn round her bed in the night – said she wasn’t feeling too clever at supper.”
“Ah well, this jumper will just have to do for someone else. Shame you’re not quite the right shape.”
“So what’s on today, Madge?”
“Think it might be one of those “Dun Diddly, dun dun dun dun” films.”
“Come again, dear?”
“Anyone seen the whatsit? Sheila, Nurse Sheila! Any sign of the thingy to turn on the telly?”
“Oops, I’ve dropped a stitch. Lights – help – I must unravel.”
“Found the thingy. Come on, Madge, or we’ll miss the beginning. Sharks today,do you think, or furry white pussycat or fat man sucked out of the plane? That’s my favourite.
“Knit one, purl one – that’s more like it. I’m off again.”
“And all because the lady loves Milk Tray.”
“Not sure that’s part of the film, Dawn. Oh no, I think this might be the bit where he gets cut in half by the laser thing. Quick, fast forward! Where’s the pinger? Forwards not back. Press the button! Now you’ve turned it off. Sheila, Sheila, crisis! Dawn’s turned the telly off!”
“Phew, missed the worst part of it, Madge, but now look who’s appeared.”
“No beard, Dawn, clean shaven if a touch ugly, but I like his hat – always wore one in church, though not a bowler.”
“Who’s your favourite?”
“Now there’s a question. I’ll have a think while I count my stitches.”
“Well, I like David Niven with his thin little moustache and naughty face.”
“Good choice, Dawn, though I don’t think he’s in this film. I love Peter Sellers as the French detective. ‘Goodness Gracious Me’ with Sophia Loren was funny too -boom boody boom – think they quite fancied each other.”
“Those were the days, but now I just like sitting here with you and your knitting. How long have we been here, Madge?”
“Since lunchtime, I think.”
“No, I mean here in Gateways.”
“No idea, can’t really remember what day of the week it is; not Friday as it wasn’t fish today, nor Sunday as we have a roast on Sundays. Must be one of the others.”
“Ey up, Madge, tea’s here. Thanks Sheila, two lumps for me and, by the way, what day is it? Right, thank you, Sheila. It’s a Saturday, Madge.”
“I like Nurse Sheila, but she’s always asking questions. I try to answer but words just rush about in my head and I can’t make sense of them – so I keep quiet.”
“Dun Diddly dun dun, dun dun.”
“Where’s my knitting got to?”
“I wish someone would visit us.”
A strong sense of pathos here. The characters have, in a way, lost their lives. The last line is poignant.
From Simon: This is a good evocation of life in a care home, and the piece is given immediacy by the fact that it’s all in dialogue, with no descriptions of action or ‘she said’s. The names give us a clue to the characters’ ages, as does the early reference to Stirling Moss, a speed merchant from an earlier era. The way the two old ladies flit from subject to subject is very believable, with their memories fraying but still more or less intact. There is humour in their talk too, as in the way they identify the days of the week by fish or roast, and their inability to remember exactly how long they’ve been in the care home. But there’s sadness too, particularly in the poignant final line. And the earlier ‘Curtains’ reference to the death of Angie is made more powerful by Madge’s pragmatic response that the jumper she was knitting ‘will just have to do for someone else’. This matter-of-factness tells us that death is a regular occurrence in the care home and that both women are aware of their own mortality.